
August 2024 · Taylor Jeon
In August 2024, we met a family who had been in the United States for just two months. Their youngest daughter, Aisha, had just started kindergarten. Bright, curious, and eager to learn, she stood out among the children we were teaching.
One day, we asked her, "How was school?"
Her answer stayed with us. "I watched YouTube all day."
For the first two weeks, a five-year-old child—ready to learn—had spent her school days watching videos. Later, we learned that about 80% of the students at her school were refugees. Many refugee parents were overwhelmed just trying to survive. Language barriers prevent them from advocating for their children. Education, though important, becomes difficult to fight for.
Aisha's older sister, now in 10th grade, faced a similar struggle. Though kind and hardworking, she is far behind academically—yet she received all A's.
It made us wonder: Is this truly helping them, or quietly holding them back?
So we reached out—writing thoughtful emails to their teachers and principal—asking for something simple, yet so meaningful: a real opportunity for these children to learn, to grow, and to be seen for who they truly are. We hoped for even the smallest acknowledgment, a sign that someone was listening, that someone cared. But no reply ever came. Only silence.
And in that silence, we came to understand a difficult and heartbreaking truth. This is the reality many of these children face—being overlooked, unheard, and left behind, not because they lack potential, but because they lack someone willing to truly see them.
Still, we did not stop.
Even through the silence, we believed in them. We believed that these children deserve more support, opportunities and compassion. They deserve to feel valued, to be given a chance to succeed, and to know that their voices matter.
So we continue to show up and speak out, and we will keep advocating for them, again and again, until that silence is replaced with understanding, opportunity, and hope.